Regan’s hands trembled at her sides. Don’t you dare strike her. Everything’s over if you strike her.
“You wanna talk about perspective? You’re fucking the guy who threw black paint all over you,” Regan said.
Casey’s breathing came faster. She clenched her jaw and her books against her chest.
“You stole a friend from me. You stole years from me because of one lie,” Regan said.
“Take some responsibility, Regan. You could have been his friend at any time.”
“You told me he didn’t want that!”
“Yeah, well, you could have made him,” Casey said carelessly. “If you really tried. You were always good at getting the things you wanted.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that maybe I never wanted to be on the outside,” Casey said. “That I belonged here, right here, all along. That maybe you held me back.”
“You always wanted to be a fucking bitch? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Casey ignored her. “I was never in the right group until now. And I think that’s because I let you dictate my life, shove me into the space you wanted me to fit in. You didn’t ask me what I wanted. You never asked me what I wanted. It was all about you. All the time. Because you were loud and persistent and obnoxious. And I was your opposite, quieter, lesser half.”
Regan stood shell-shocked.
“So yeah, I lied about the stupid note. I made a decision for myself that day. I decided you were going to live the life I wanted to live since I’d spent so many years living yours. Seemed only fair.”
Silence.
“But I guess it wasn’t good enough for you. And that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be. But I’m not leaving just because you did. So, now, please get out of my way.”
The bell rang.
“Move, Regan.”
She stepped aside, still dazed. Still processing Casey’s words. Her brain moved sluggishly, working hard to register the reason for her best friend’s betrayal.
I dictated her life? she thought. I did? I thought she was happy.
“You going inside?” she heard above her and looked up. Jeremy smiled down at her.
She shook her head.
“You wanna ditch?” he offered.
She nodded, afraid if she opened her mouth she’d sob long and loud. She would need the release at some point, but now was not the time. Now was the time to take a deep breath. And shift.
***
That evening, Regan lay on her bed staring down at a piece of blank notebook paper. She needed to write out a list, to try and make sense of Casey’s earlier words. To discover if she was, in fact, a selfish friend.
She drew a line down the center of the page and labeled two categories: Things I Did Right and Things I Did Wrong. She paused, chewing on the end of her pen as she thought. A negative was the first to pop up in her brain.
Casey wanted to invite Catherine into our club, and I said no because she was friends with Brandon.
Regan scowled. “I still don’t like that girl.” She exhaled and added, “Buuuuut, Catherine was never mean to me. Or to Casey. And why was I the one who got to make the final decision? I wasn’t even President. Am I that bossy?”
She shook her head and moved to the left side of the page. She needed to feel better.
Punched Ethan in the nose after he threw black paint all over my best friend.
She smiled smugly. “Yeah, that’s right. I defend my friends.”
But the idea couldn’t mask her compunction—the shame growing slowly inside that suggested she was an egocentric friend. That everything was on her terms. That she never allowed Casey the freedom to make her own choices. That she wanted ultimate control over their friendship because she was certain she knew best.
“Who knows anything at twelve years old?” she asked aloud. “Buuuuut . . .”
She scribbled more.
Was there for Casey when her parents divorced. I let her scream at me and hurt my feelings because I knew it wasn’t about me. I knew she didn’t mean it. I stood by her.
Regan stared at the words. She had forgotten all about those five months in ninth grade. They were brutal. They revealed Casey’s deeply-rooted vulnerability—her fear of the future and doubt about lasting love. That was right around the time Ethan began pursuing her, this wounded girl searching for something—anything—to bring stability to her life.
Regan’s hand automatically moved to the right side of the page.
Didn’t prevent Ethan from dating my best friend.
She wished now she were typing the list because she would have cut and pasted that point at the top of the Things I Did Wrong column.
“I am a terrible friend, but not for reasons she thinks,” Regan said. “I should have protected her. That’s my job. I’ve always been the protector—the defender—and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
She fell silent.
“There’s nothing wrong with that!” she cried, thinking of all the people who were most important to her.
She imagined gathering them in a tightly knitted circle—Casey, Jeremy, Mom and Dad, Caroline, maybe even Hannah—and zipping them up in warm coats she fashioned out of her loyalty and commitment to their emotional care. Emotional care coats, she thought, grinning, watching Caroline try to unzip hers because she thought she was old enough to take care of herself.
She shifted on her elbows, catching a glimpse of the gold, rhinestone-studded Zodiac pendant swaying and flickering below her chin: Libra—the scales. She studied the pendant—scales perfectly balanced—and wondered where possession and ferocity came into play. After all, those were much more the traits of her Leo sister. But she owned them as well—that dangerous possession of her friends she tried to pass off as loyalty; her roaring queen-of-the-jungle words and actions.